Mediocre is not for a Malfoy
by ProfQuitinity
Summary: After the final fall of Voldemort, Lucius is struggling in his new place in life. Desperate to find something to excite him again he relapses into an old habit, a habit Narcissa would not be pleased about. *May not continue, Review warmly received!


**Disclaimer**_ - I own nout, nada, zilch, please don't file a lawsuit!! _

A little note_ - This is my first attempt at a serious FanFic, I tried really hard to keep the bad jokes and euphemisms out of it, honest! I'll continue it depending on how terrible the response is (reviews welcomed wholeheartedly). Heh. Um... Enjoy?  
_

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Mundane and Matured**

In a large room of dark wooden walls and an even darker wooden floor, the newly appointed Minister of Magic was holding a committee meeting. It was a hot day outside and the minister had squeezed more than two hundred people onto the tiered benches of the Debate Hall. The windows had been flung open to dispel some of the stuffiness, but it was to no avail.

'Less than thirteen percent of all wizarding households are happy with the current legislation on cauldron distribution,' The new minister drawled.

Lucius Malfoy inwardly groaned. It was nearing five hours since he first sat on this bench. The small, portly man to his right leaned towards him, 'Unbearable,' he whispered, 'couldn't you just die of boredom?' the tubby man looked at Lucius expectantly.

'-and of course there is some unrest over the small issue of import tax on mandrake juice-'

Lucius did not even incline his head to the small sweaty person next to him. Of course he was bored, he fancied he would much rather the cruciatus curse than this insufferable torture. But he was a Malfoy. Shamed, ruined and intolerably bored. But a Malfoy nevertheless. Since the Second Fall there had been a great deal of nothing for him to do. With little choice he had to pronounce himself as one of the death eaters. It was a miracle that the whole family had not landed themselves a lovely suite in Azkaban. But it would seem even in this 'new world', cleansed of the previous corruption and filth, anything can be bought if you have enough funds. And the Malfoy's never had any problems where money was concerned.

'-let us not forget, each year the price of quill ink fluctuates by a whole three knuts and a half-'

Malfoy sat, poised and pensive, as if it was the most entertaining seminar he had ever heard. In fact, by the look on his face, it could have been better than sliced bread.

'I think I'm going to make a break for it,' the generously proportioned wizard whispered. Lucius made no answer or objection. He had no idea why this tubby fellow felt the need to portray his less than genius plans to him. Although it did not surprise him, considering he was sat in the 'cheap seats'. It was a different world. Lucius had been there early, to chose the bench that had the least woodworm and the best view. As more people had trickled in he noted that he could probably count the fortunes of those around him on his fingers and toes.

'-a twenty six percent increase in wizard immigration. This is more than France, which has been reputable-'

There was a loud creak as the corpulent wizard slid off the bench and onto his hands and knees. Lucius swallowed his disgust and found it even harder to resist driving his foot into the man's rotund backside as he barged passed.

'-and so gentleman, and ladies, it would seem we have run out of time. Busy schedule and all. I will send an owl when we are to reconvene-' If the minister said anything else Lucius did not hear it for all the people in his section had begun making their way to the door. Lucius sat, astonished and completely drained.

'_Commoners_,' he breathed. What he needed was some sport.

* * *

He contemplated this later that evening. He was sat in the Gentleman's Club in Diagon Alley. One of the only establishments left that recognised his wealth and influence, and more over, respected his bloodline. _Pureblood_, he thought bitterly, _stands for nothing anymore_. He swilled the brandy around the glass absently whilst scanning the room. His wife certainly would not approve of his relapse into some of his older and more destructive habits. A small smile played on his lips. The thought of winding up that embittered, insipid bitch made him feel a flicker of happiness in his stomach.

However, since that small disagreement over at the castle, the one that was less small and more of a large scale battle, there was a less than fruitful stock of appropriate game birds.

Lucius sighed wearily. _Perhaps I am too old for this_, he thought. Then he shook his head. A defeatist attitude did not become him.

'Lucius?' His reverie had been quite rudely interrupted by a lesser member of the Club. Lucius simply looked at the lad, for he could not have been more than twenty four, and raised a cynical brow.

'M-Mr Malfoy' The lad stuttered, 'A load of us are heading over to _The Jig_, do you want to join us?' Lucius blinked. Uncomfortable under Lucius' stare the lad added, 'It's quite dead here,' he scoffed._ That's because you have no sense of refinement,_ he thought, still staring at the lad.

'And what would I do in place like that?'Lucius said finally. The young lad looked confused,

'Well,' he started, 'You could have a drink-'

'I have one here,' Lucius interrupted, raising his glass.

'You could dance-'

'Not likely,' he interrupted again.

'Uh, um-' The lad was completely at a loss. Any previous confidence had fallen away. He shuffled a bit and then checked his watch, 'Well, Mr Malfoy, best be off. _The Jig_ opens in a few minutes and…' he trailed off, and gestured that he was going to leave before scuttling away to his rowdy friends in the corner.

Lucius shook his head in disbelief. As if he would be seen dead in a place like that. It was nothing more than a poorly disguised sperm bank where wizards and witches, of any calibre, took the dimmed lights and cheap intoxicant as a chance to rub themselves against each other. The music was too loud and too electric and altogether too muggle. And the women were grubby little hybrids. No style, no decorum. He would rather spend his evening with the banshee W.I. Although he sincerely hoped that his sport led him to some females a little more attractive than that or he may need a few more glasses of brandy.

* * *

He strode through Diagon Alley, his cloak billowing in the late summer breeze. He paused outside the tailor. _You always know a Malfoy by the cut of his clothes, _the tailor had said the last time he had visited. And it was true that the material was probably the most expensive and most indulgent that money could buy. A door swung open and three giggling witches tumbled out of it. _Finally ,_ he thought, _perhaps the hunt can commence_.

Less than two hours later Lucius was walking down Diagon Alley again. _That was altogether too easy_, he thought to himself. The three witches had not been the challenge he had been hoping for. The first witch, a pretty little thing with a slim waist, had refused his invitation with a mixture of fear and loathing. Lucius figured he had probably had a hand in the death of a close relative or something. But the other two however seemed most keen, and seemed excited when he almost accidentally let them see his dark mark. Lucius found it acted as a strong magnet, but sometimes the polarity was unfortunately reversed.

The two agreed to have a drink with him in a bar which incidentally was only a stones through away from Knockturn Alley. A touch on the arm, a brush of fingers, and a few carefully chosen words hushed into the ear and he had enraptured them both. _Much too easy_. Not as pretty as their friend; _shame_, Lucius had thought, but a pair of mediocre stature made up for the loss of one.

Walking from the apartment the two witches had led him to he found himself feeling lower than before. _This game is getting me nowhere and giving me even less satisfaction_. His thoughts roamed to bigger game and more dangerous sport. He was reluctant to let this new life he had been so generously offered to become predictable and pedestrian.

* * *

-x-


End file.
